….OK, so this has been a long absence. A REALLY long absence. An absence so long, in fact, that geologists with their little hammers and measury things will dig bits of it up one day name a Period after it, like the Procrastinatic Period, or the Lazyarse Period or, if I may so bold as to suggest one myself, the Really Fucking Depressed Period.
Aaaanyway, whatever it’s called I can only apologise to you lovely people who read this blog and have been wondering where the heck I’ve gone, and offer by way of explanation the fact that, basically…well….let’s just say it’s been a pants time, and I’ve been feeling pants, and writing pants, and, you’ll be relieved to hear, wearing pants most of the time. Clean ones mostly.
And now, finally, those four L-O-N-G months of unrelenting, soul-sapping pants (now there’s a concept for LaSenza to work on…. “Hi. One pair of soul-sapping pants please, in red satin. Do you do soul-sapping bras, too?…”) have passed and I feel the time has come to get back to this Goddamn keyboard and start producing something.
Like, you know, words and stuff.
Because ‘pants’ is only bearable for so long, before it becomes boring and pointless. Like, say, football. (ahem…)
The point IS that I’m back, folks, and writing again, and loving it. (Somewhere in the distance I can hear fireworks going off. Or maybe it’s the local yoofs kicking the rubbish bins. But I like to think it’s fireworks.)
And, as a person who likes to give credit where it’s due just as much as I feel it’s right to slam criticism where it’s deserved, I’d like to say a big thank you to those close friends of mine – who know who they are – for drinking copious quantities of cheap wine with me over the last few months while I cried every twenty-five seconds, blew my snotty nose into wet scraps of Costa Coffee tissue paper, lost weight without even trying (an inexcuseable thing for a friend to do) and was about as much fun as an infected genital wart.
And secondly I want to thank Nicole for posting two messages on my website recently, the first asking ‘How are you?’ and the second, ‘Where are you?!’
Now, I don’t know Nicole, and perhaps Nicole isn’t even Nicole, but James, or Claire or my agent in disguise trying to get me to shift my arse and do some work. I’ll never know. What I DO know, is that sometimes we writers need a sign that someone out there does care, and does want to read what we write.
And that it’s just not OK to sit about feeling blue and pants and generally very shite, and not producing anything when kind, appreciative people are waiting for it.
So, Nicole, and Chrissie, and all the rest of you who have got in touch via the website, or my agent or Twitter or by pigeon post during this monumentally unpleasant down time, I thank you from the bottom of my writing heart. I’m through with pants, and I’ve started, at long, long last, to write my novel.
Sometimes you have to be pushed to dark places to create the brightest material. And I think I’m ready now.
At the very least I owe it to my beloved Granny, whose sudden, unexpected death in March came as such a massive blow to me and my family and triggered this empty spell, to Keep Calm and Carry On. She of all people would have stood for none of this navel-gazing and moping: she didn’t know HOW to feel sorry for herself. I’ll take a leaf out of the book she wrote with me (A Spoonful of Sugar) and, to paraphrase slightly, get my bloody arse in gear.
It’s good to be back. Thanks for waiting. More little blogs to come…